Chapter 45
Ellinor
It’s been a week since the explosion at the bar that changed everything. I pretty much live at Cello’s now, unless I sneak away to go to Nash’s. Zamir and I still haven’t fucked, and a part of me wants it to be with him alone the first time we do, but I don’t want to step on the dynamic between him and Nash. I don’t know why I care so much.
I’m done with my schoolwork for the week, the guys have a home game, and Marcello has been nothing but an angel. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed him, but I’m so glad he decided to come barreling back into my life; finally announcing the feelings I had for him was a weight off my shoulders I didn’t know I carried around.
I walk into Cello’s apartment, yelling, “Honey, I’m home.” No sooner than the words leave my lips, Marcello’s rounding the corner with a feral grin lining his lips. Oh, fuck. The guys step out from behind him like some worked-out routine, and I know this is about to be a night I’ll never forget.
Marcello’s smile is shocking; I’m not used to seeing it, and he says, “I have waited my whole life to hear you say those words.” They are all so vastly different, but that’s what draws me to each one of them. Marcello and Zamir are absolutely covered in tattoos. Nash’s are more sporadic but fit him with the patchwork littering his stunning body. We’re all in a stare-off, and I’m not complaining; I get to appreciate each one of their bodies.
“I don’t know what kind of charity I did in my past life, but I’m going to thank that bitch later for doing it,” I mumble, raking my eyes over each one of them while groaning and biting my fist for show.
Marcello and Zamir both stand at six three, and Nash is just an inch taller. Marcello is bulkier than both of them, spending god knows how long in the gym—or probably from throwing bodies around. He’s right there with the two professional football players, even with having more than a couple of years on them.
Zamir is the first to start walking up to me. “Hi, dirty girl. I’ve missed you the past couple of days.” He and Nash have had some long practices and film to watch afterward. They both crash every night. Honestly, I’m shocked to see them here tonight.
He gets to me, and I’m running my hands up his stomach and chest, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck. “I’ve missed you, Z.” I moan out his nickname, and that does him in. He’s pushing his body against mine into the door. I run my hands up and down his corded arms, appreciating the bare skin that’s showing. Well, bare as in covered in tattoos and scars, but no clothes hiding his upper half. They’re all in sweats and nothing else, which, now that I think of it, I don’t think I’ve seen Cello in sweats since we were younger. He’s always in some kind of wild-ass, tailor-made suit.
“Bring her to the bed, Z,” Marcello calls out, and I’m being picked up and thrown over his shoulder, looking at his perfect ass cheeks in front of my face.
I grab two handfuls, shaking them, and tell him, “I don’t know what I appreciate more about you… that pretty uncut cock of yours or this juicy fucking ass.”
He slaps my ass, then grabs the cheek in his big hand. “Yours is a hundred times better, Shpirt Im.”
1He sets me down on my feet, and I hear Nash talking to Marcello, “What is this a goddamn Red Room?”
I look around at the walls, and why I haven’t noticed the stark difference in paint, I have no clue. It’s a deep red, and every other wall in the apartment is stark white. This man has no color anywhere in this place. I add in, “What Nash said.”
“It’s my version of a Red Room.” He looks absolutely fucking feral from whatever switch just flipped. “This is you, Ellie.”
I pull my eyebrows together, shaking my head, questioning him, “What the fuck are you talking about, Marcello?”
He looks around, wearing that smile that would make the devil piss herself. “The underwear that you stained up for me so beautifully… I had my designer color match the walls.”
“You really do have a goddamn blood kink, don’t you?”
“No, Ellie. I have a you kink.” Why is that hot?
Nash and Zamir are just looking at each other like they always are. It makes me want to smash their heads together. “I could use some input on the unhinged psycho, you two.”
Nash holds his hands up. “I’m not saying shit. It is a beautiful color, Marcello.”
“Stunning. I think you should paint every wall in the apartment this exact shade.”
“Both of you are certifiable, or you’re a bunch of pussies that are afraid of Marcello.” I shrug, and go to step around Cello to get to the bed. He stops me, grabs my arm, and spins my back into his chest.
He’s rubbing his dick against my ass, and I’m shamelessly pushing back against him. “You feel what you do to me, Ragazza Dolce?” I suck in a breath. That sounds familiar, but I don’t know what it’s from, and it’s coming off his tongue in Italian. I can’t find it in me to care. Stillwhispering into my ear, he says, “Turn around and strip for me, then come back. We’re about to watch the show they’re going to put on.” I spin away while lifting my shirt over my body as slow as I possibly can. Nash and Zamir are at the end of the bed, both kneeling, devouring each other’s mouths, their hands roaming all over one another, but Cello’s eyes are on me. My sports bra is next to come off. Thank fuck none of them care if I wear cute lingerie. We all know that shit isn’t practical.
I pull my leggings down my thighs and tug each leg out of them. Marcello reaches his hand out to me. Taking it he spins me back into him in one quick motion. He runs his hand up my arm, over my chest, lightly grazing my greedy nipples, and up to my neck. I lean my head back, giving him easier access, and let out a moan at the view in front of us. “You like watching the whores… don’t you?” I nod my head, and his grip tightens around my throat. “I want your words, Ellinor. I’ve waited too fucking long to have you in my hands not to hear that raspy voice gracing my ears.”
“I love watching them, Marcello, but I also want to be in the middle of them or getting fucked by one of you while they’re getting fucked too.” His other hand slides down my stomach right to my soaking cunt. If he thought I was lying, the proof is coating his fingers now.
Zamir pulls away from Nash’s lips to ask Marcello, “How wet is she?” He walks us forward to the side of the bed, hand still between my thighs. He shoves two fingers in me, rubbing my inner spot a couple of times, pulls them out, and holds them up. Nash grabs his hand before Z can and sucks Marcello’s fingers into his mouth. He hallows his cheeks out, looking up at Marcello, and I swear to god I feel his dick twitch against my ass.
Zamir groans and pulls Nash’s pants down to his knees, doing the same with his own. They both climb out of their sweats and are kneeling while completely bare to us.
I’m not going to make it! Let my tombstone read: Death by the Brigade of Cocks.
And with the way Marcello’s panting behind me, I don’t think he is either. “I’m starved, Z, lay back and let me see that ass of mine.” If I get to witness them fuck for the first time, I might just combust. The tension that has been building between them has been so fucking alluring to watch. I reach back, palming Marcello through his sweats.
“I need these off, Cello.” He immediately obeys, dropping them to his ankles. Of course, there’s nothing underneath them. The power trip of having these three powerful men listening to me in the bedroom is going to make my ego an unbearable size.
Cello lays me out beside Zamir on the bed; I turn to look into his captivating green eyes and joke, “Who would’ve thought, Stalker Boy?”
1.Drive You Insane - Daniel Di Angelo